The Way You Hurt Me

Prologue

PROLOGUE

WILLOW

Eve of Morgan and Camden’s wedding

I watch with rapture, too fascinated to even think about moving. Besides, if I make a sound, they'll see me, and wouldn'tthatbe awkward.

My sister is getting fucked. I realize that peeping on your sibling is creepy, but I can't help it. I watch every moment.

Her future husband's driving into her from underneath, while none other than Dimitri Volkov—voted hottest man alive last year—screws her from the back.

I'm not a complete psycho. I didn't seek them out behind closed doors. I just came downstairs for a snack. They're going at it in the freaking lounge. Who does that?

People who aren't ashamed of what they're doing, that's who.

I bite my lip, feeling my insides tingle. Holy fuck, it's so, so hot.

I'm not innocent. I watch tons of porn. This is a lot hotter than anything I've ever seen, anything I could have imagined.

My sister deserves all the luck in the world, given the shitty cards we were dealt with growing up. She's my hero, always taking care of me. I've never been jealous of her, despite her rich, gorgeous, caring fiancé, and everything good that has happened to her in the last couple of years. No one deserves it more.

I'm jealous now.

I should leave. But if I take a step away from the alcove where I'm standing, they could hear me. I opt to remain in my vantage spot until they're done. I'm partially concealed by the bar and the bookshelves around me here.

I flush as Morgan screams her release, and the men grunt before collapsing over her.

Then they laugh, their camaraderie obvious.

Yeah, I'm green with envy.

I wonder what their relationship is like. Are they a throuple? That doesn't seem likely. Dimitri lives in New York City, and they, in Thorn Falls, on the opposite coast. Maybe they just share from time to time. I'll likely never know. It's not like I can ask her.Talk about mortifying.

"Go get your beauty sleep, kids," Dimitri tells them, straightening up. He only lowered his pants, so getting dressed doesn't take him long. "Long day tomorrow."

"Don't lose the rings," Camden warns, and they saunter away toward their room, taking the exit nearer to them, and never coming close to the bar.

I manage a low sigh of relief.

"You can come out now, petal."

I freeze.

Petal.

That's what Dimitri’s called me the day we were introduced two years ago. I like it. I like it a lot. It makes me feel attractive and delicate and grown-up, because the most beautiful man alive has a pretty nickname for me. Stupid, I know. He wouldn't look at me twice.He likely calls me that because he can’t remember my actual name.

"Watched your fill?" he asks me, closing the distance between us.

When he reaches the bar, he pours himself a drink into a crystal glass. Something brown, but I don’t recognize the label on the bottle.

"Don't tell Morgan," I beg.

He snorts over the drink, spilling some of it out.

"Yeah, right. Like I want that conversation with yoursister. Way to get myself cockblocked."

I breathe out at his reassurance. "I just came down for something to eat. Then I was there, and?—"

I can't think of a decent excuse, so I leave it at that. "Yeah? What are you hungry for, little girl?"

That question has a double meaning, and when I watch him smirk, I assume he did it on purpose. Dimitri likes seeing me squirm.

"Something sweet. There was cake earlier, right?"

To my surprise, Dimitri helps me find cake, and watches me eat it too.

"How old are you again?"

Again? I don't remember him asking before. "Seventeen in December."

It sounds better than sixteen, even though December’s still three months away.

"Seventeen," he repeats. "That's a little young to enjoy watching your sister fucking."

"Didn’t mean to look, I was just?—"

"A dirty little pervert," he finishes for me. "Did you like what you saw?"

I flush.

"Don’t be ashamed."

"She was glowing," I murmur. "Morgan. She…seemed to like it a lot."

"She did."

Maybe I can ask him. "Are you guys together? Like, with Camden."

"No, nothing like that. Camden and Morgan are what we call swingers. They’re a couple, fully committed to each other. Sexually, they like to explore. I'm not going to draw you a picture, but it’s more common than you think. And swingers often stay together longer."

Swingers. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the term, but I’ll research it. I want to know everything about it.

"I want to feel what that’s like," I confess out loud, surprising myself.

“Find a boy to show you.” Dimitri’s tone is firm. “You’re a little too young to handle a man.”

He knows.

He knows the way I look at him.

No wonder. My genes suck, so I don't doubt I'm red from head to toe.

"I’m not that much younger than Morgan and you fucked her," I hear myself muttering.

"Jesus," Dimitri half sighs, half laughs. "You're a handful, aren't you?"He gets to his feet. "I'm too old for you until you stop getting carded."

"I’m not trying to buy beer," I grumbled.

"No, you’re just trying to fuck a man who’ll wreck you."

"Morgan—" I start.

"She’s someone else’s woman." Dimitri's mouth curves up in a smile that's not that nice, though it's incredibly gorgeous. "I treat her like a lady. I wouldn’t treatyoulike one. You’re no one else’s property. I’d fuck you so hard you can’t walk for a week, long after you beg me to stop."

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

"Find a boy. Come to me after college."

He likely doesn’t know I already started college last month. I also had enough AP credits to skip a full semester. With the workload I’m taking, I’ll be done with my undergraduate in two years, three max.

That might as well be in a million years, and I want him now . Now that I've consciously admitted it to myself, I can't stop thinking about it. Him grunting andplowing into me , not Morgan.

Maybe I shouldn’t have thoughts like that about an actual man. But I’ve been younger than my schoolmates as long as I can remember, and I tend to hang out with my sister’s friends rather than people my age. I don’t think I’ve ever fancied anyone my own age. Have I actually even talked to a sixteen-year-old? Not since I was thirteen, in all probability.

Dimitri isn’t Camden, though. He isn’t Morgan’s friend, Damian, or Camden’s cousin, Rhys. He’s twenty-seven. He owns a business, and has his own house—not to mention the vacation house where we’re standing right now. He’s so far out of my league he might as well be in another universe.

But he’s acknowledging me. He gave me cake, and talked to me after I saw something he likely thought shocked me to make sure I was fine. He’s descended from Olympus to acknowledge me, poor mortal that I am.

And now that he’s at my level, I want to feel him so badly I can nearly taste it.

So I take it.

I grab his hand, tug him until he turns, and I bring my lips to his in a crushing kiss.